


Heartstrings

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Injured Victor [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2394275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Greg Lestrade approaches 221B Baker Street he hears the sound of the violin playing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartstrings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Music" Challenge for LJ's Fan Flashworks.
> 
> My thanks to my beta scfrankles for providing her usual self and coming up with the title.

Mrs Hudson smiled at Greg Lestrade when he knocked on the Baker Street door. “Go on up,” she said. “And go straight into the flat, Sherlock’s left the door on the latch.”

As he went up the stairs Greg could hear strains of violin music; not the usual slightly discordant sounds from when a particular aspect of a case was causing Sherlock difficulty, but something much calmer and gentler.

As instructed he entered the flat without knocking to see Sherlock emerging from his bedroom, violin in hand. Greg was about to speak when Sherlock put his finger to his lips and indicated that Greg should sit down in the armchair, before he himself sat carefully on the sofa. Not wanting to say anything Greg raised his eyebrows.

Sherlock spoke quietly. “Victor’s asleep for now. If he wakes again I shall go back to him.”

“Do you want me to go? I can come back later.”

“No, we need to discuss the case, and it will be some time before Victor improves.”

They made significant progress in the next half hour. Greg was impressed that, despite not being his usual flamboyant self, Sherlock still managed to convey his contempt of most of the human race. Then there was a small sound from the bedroom and Sherlock was instantly on his feet, grabbing his violin. He went into the room and Greg could hear the low murmur of voices, but couldn’t make out what was being said.

Then he heard “Lestrade, come in here.”

He went in to see Victor lying under the covers in Sherlock’s bed, his face very pale apart from the bruising over part of it. His lower left arm and hand were splinted. Greg guessed that the bed clothes were hiding other injuries.

Victor looked at him and said quietly, “Sherlock wants to have a shower, but doesn’t like leaving me. Would you mind sitting in here for a few minutes?”

“Of course not, mate. Sherlock, take as long as you want.”

Greg debated as to what he should say and decided to tell Victor about the recent trip to the zoo he had been on with John Watson and his small daughter. At first Victor seemed taken with the story, but as the minutes went on it became apparent that he was concentrating hard to block out the other thoughts in his head. 

At that point Sherlock returned. “Out now!” he ordered, followed by “Coffee would be nice.”

Greg went to make some and listened as Sherlock resumed his violin playing. He drank his own coffee and then Sherlock’s as he heard various tunes: top ten hits from twenty years before, famous themes from classical pieces, dances from the ballets that Greg knew Victor dragged Sherlock to see whenever he was back in London. He put the kettle on again to make more coffee. Finally Sherlock reappeared and Greg passed him a mug.

“How is he?” Greg asked.

“Not good. This time he’ll be permanently disabled,” Sherlock replied.

“And it’s not just the physical side, is it?” Greg said quietly.

“No. He’s suffering badly.” Sherlock looked as if he would say more, but for once he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m managing.” Sherlock looked downwards, to avoid Greg seeing the concern on his face.

“Yeah, I know. I could call in after my shift this evening; bring you something to eat.”

Sherlock didn’t reply, having heard the sound of muffled sobbing from the bedroom. He picked up his violin again, then paused and handed Greg a spare set of door keys, before going back into the bedroom.

As Greg went down the stairs he could hear the soft sounds of a Scottish lament.


End file.
